


5 times Dorian was glad he got married (and one time he was not)

by AnnieTheMouse



Series: that blessed arrangement [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dorian Inquisitor BFFs for life, F/M, M/M, Post-Trespasser, Romances are somewhat background, this is all about the friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:21:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26131822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieTheMouse/pseuds/AnnieTheMouse
Summary: Of all the things Dorian Pavus never planned on his life, it was to get married.  But wars do make for strange bedfellows ....
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Dorian Pavus & Female Trevelyan, Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus
Series: that blessed arrangement [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946260
Comments: 34
Kudos: 80





	1. Prologue

“I promise you, I’ve got a plan. And when have you ever known me to break a promise?"

Evelyn, as much as he loves his dearest friend, can be just a little dramatic, Dorian knows. (it’s not like he can critique that. much.)

But he must admit, driving a dagger into the middle of the map as she makes her declaration is a nice touch. Everyone’s eyes focus on where the point of it pierces the middle of Tevinter.

Before every single pair of eyes in this underground planning session turn and focus on him instead.

If he was a more self-conscious man, he’d squirm. As it is, he just raises an eyebrow back at the Inquisitor. “And exactly how, pray tell, do you plan on invading my homeland?”

The beaming smile she gives is worrying. Even more worrying when she is directing it at Bull instead of him and he definitely sees his amatus squirm under that focus. 

“Iron Bull, oh greatest of all warriors” she begins, and Dorian swears he hears both Cullen and Krem snort at that one. “I need a favor.”

“Please may I marry your boyfriend?”


	2. Homecoming

The moment the gangplank lowered to the dock, Dorian was ready. Well, perhaps not ready. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready for this.

How much of his reluctance is based off the very obvious and very overdone party he sees waiting off the dock … well, he doesn’t want to say, but it’s definitely a factor. Especially with his mother dressed far too elaborately for a trip to the waterfront, draped in layers of obsidian and jet.

The very picture of the grieving widow. It would be touching, if he thought she was grieving. Or, if he was truly certain he was grieving himself. It was hard to be a dutiful son when your father tries to destroy you. Even after he happens to be dead.

Still, he was dressed accordingly. Slate grey trimmed with black, stifling for the heat, but it wouldn’t do to not look the part. Not now, as the returning ambassador, the heir apparent to a Magisterium seat and the fortune that comes with it. Dwelling on what his father had tried to do was just not done, not in Tevinter.

Of course, that could be because Tevinter wouldn’t quite look down on what his father had tried to do. He looks forward to helping change that.

He takes his time as he strides down the gangplank, not waiting for his belongings and the rest of the party. Keeps his steps measured, precise as he makes his way to where she waits. 

“Dorian” she inclines her head slowly at him, eyes measuring.

“Mother” he responds, tone cool. “You hardly had to come and meet me. I am sure I can find the way back to our household by now.”

Dorian respects the arch of the brow she gives him. He’d learned from the best, after all. Around them, workers scuttle to unload the ship, people stream past, the world is abuzz. But it feels like here, between them, everything has gone quiet.

“You have far too many duties to attend to to dawdle, or get distracted by some riffraff or another, so I thought it best to collect you.” She sniffs, and he knows that pretty much anyone that he respected, most of his friends from Skyhold, would qualify as ‘riffraff’ in her eyes. “Besides, we need to find you a proper companion for all of this. You cannot be seen to be alone, not now, and you will not dishonor our family by keeping up your usual behavior. Just because your father is gone doesn’t mean this is done.”

He had to give her credit. Hadn’t even taken 5 minutes for this to come up. He’d consider it a record, but his father trying to kidnap him in Redcliffe would probably beat it. 

“That won’t be necessary, mother” he begins, but she glares at him and he is 8 again, being told he’s not proper enough, he’s 18 again being dragged from his lovers bed, he’s 28 again and running for his life. 

He’s Dorian, just never being what they wanted even when it hurts.

“It will be necessary. I will not all…” her words cut off as he feels a gloved hand tuck carefully into the curve of his elbow. Automatically his body turns to that touch, unable to fully stop the curve of his lip towards the figure that stands by his side.

She is dressed conspicuously to match him, and one had to bless the advantage of a very well connected merchant ambassador for the quality of these mourning clothes. Slate grey, but hers is trimmed not in black, but a green a few shades deeper than her eyes.

The emerald drop that dangles from his ear suddenly stands out, in their matched context. Enough to spark a realization in his mother’s eyes.

His inquisitor’s smile to him is warm and supportive. The one she gives to his mother is anything but. “Lady Evelyn Trevelyan of Ostwick, Dorian’s wife. It is nice to finally meet you, Lady Thalrassian.” Evelyn states, and with her by his side he’s stared down dragons. There is no need to run.

Besides, Dorian is pretty sure he’s never seen his mother struck silent before. It’s very enjoyable. 

He might get to like this ‘married’ thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn’t going to post today, I usually spend more time obsessing over edits, but with the video today I just want ALL THE DA so here it is.


	3. Ceremony

His mother’s disapproval still hangs in the air, so many days later, but for once he’s outplayed her.

All that research into Tevinter nobility as he’d tracked down Corypheus, finding Trevalyan blood and Tevinter intermingling - at the time, an amusing anecdote, but now a counter to her first attempt to complain that his ‘dear wife’ was not of a level of nobility appropriate for him.

She’d only tried to comment on Evelyn’s skills as a mage once, but Evelyn’s sharp crack of laughter as she looked at his mother over her wineglass had ended that. The Inquisitor is not just famous, she’s infamous, and her magic has always been part of the legend.

The only thing she hadn’t tried to attack was, amusingly enough to Dorian, was the only thing that technically she could have a point on. The paperwork that glosses over - and honestly, flat out ignores - the realities of their partnership. But then, one doesn’t expect the White Divine to help fake marriage paperwork. Unless you happened to know the White Divine before she was the Divine, to have fought and bled by her side. 

But then, the fact that they’re dedicated to each other he realizes is not something that you would question. it’s there in how they . The fact that this dedication is soul deep but not romantically so, the fact that they each have someone else their hearts belong to, well, even there they’re in the same boat.

So here they are, Evelyn one step behind him as per tradition for the spouse, as he enters the mausoleum arm in arm with his mother, following the proscribed 2 steps behind his father’s sepulchre. This time there is no breaking the black, though the patterning on his outfit still stands out, both in quality and in a distinctly non-Tevinter styling. The only breaking of black he allows himself is the emerald drop still in his ear.

It’s strange, mourning publicly for a man that you’re not sure you want to mourn. 

He feels Evelyn’s presence behind his shoulder, steady and true. It reminds of her hand on his shoulder as she told him he didn’t have to stay there and listen to his father. The first person in his life that had told him that he could simply walk away.

It’s the only thing stopping him from walking away now, really. Well, that and the plan, of course.

The plan that means that he needs to enter the room next to where his father lays in state for the next level of ceremony. To promise his heart and soul to the Magisterium, as its latest magister. He’s lying, of course - both his heart and his soul belong to things far better than the Magisterium - but he’s pretty sure every single Magister is lying when they promise they believe in something bigger than himself, so he’s not too far out.

“Magister Pavus” the chancellor finally states as the ceremony is complete, the first time his title has been spoken out loud, nodding at him with a hint of a sneer on his face. Dorian’s reputation was already problematic, even without the fact that their research is pretty sure the chancellor helped fund the Venatori. His hand tightens behind his back, tightening in a fist.

This is the city of the dead, and he can feel them around him, and it would take only a moment to raise them and raze this man and all this fake pageantry to the ground. Turn their worlds and that smirk upside down. For a moment, Dorian is oh, so, tempted. For a moment, he almost understands where Solas is coming from.

And then he feels her hand on his, against all rules and protocol, fingers twisting with his. He hears coughs and mutters at this breach of what is proper, but it is enough. He had feared this day since he’d first received the news, almost since he'd been a child and first learned about 'his purpose', but with her beside him he doesn’t fear anything. Especially sad old men who can’t let go of the past.

“Chancellor” he returns with as much artificial pleasure and real poison in his voice as the other man had given him, perhaps even more, and bows his head in return, before turning, side by side with Evelyn, to stride from the room.

He’s always wanted to turn their world upside down. With her by his side, he’s got a chance.


	4. Magisterium

He’s already making headway, 6 months in, one of the founding members of the new Lucerni - one who can be a lot less fearless than others, with no true ties to family to really hold him back. His mother has so far to move back to her family’s holdings, to distance herself from his actions. With a sizeable allowance required, of course. 

It’s gone well, so far. Well, other than introducing Evelyn to Mae. He’s not sure if he’ll ever recover from those two teaming up. He’s definitely sure Tevinter won’t.

His mother had always sat at his father’s side in the senate, and Evelyn keeps up the tradition, silent but a presence that he knows makes some people uneasy, watching and noting reactions for their later planning. 

He makes them uneasy as well, but not by being quiet, by being bold, by being the peacock they expect but don't know how to handle- today in teals and blues and almost too daring cutouts, his wife just a few shades darker. His shadow. Almost funny given how long he’d played her shadow. But it’s helping disguise what they’re doing behind the scenes, the allies they’re making within the lower classes, the inroads they’re making to build support for them - and support for their cause. Support for making it more than words argued on a senate floor.

It’s not overtly support for fighting Solas, but it’s the same goal. Evelyn’s words challenging him on slavery what seems ages ago, Maevaris's tiredness at the hypocracy, even Solas’s words about his country's treatment of elves - all of it mingled forms the backbone of the Lucerni now, and even if he now works to stop the Dread Wolf, he takes the lessons he learned by his side and uses them to help his cause.

He finishes his speech, the first one that the Lucerni have dared to do straight out condemning the use of slaves. Announcing how his have all been offered their freedom, or their payment, with no recriminations. (It was definitely one of the reasons his mother had left). The other Lucerni stand with him, in solidarity, all their slaves released as well, and he hears the muttering, the discontent, the upset within the Magisterium, even as he sees some faces that seem to show a hint of interest.

And some with more than a hint of anger. He's made sure to throw a few backhand comments at a couple of Venatori supporters in his speech. They’ve been prodding Paulus for awhile now, specifically needling topics close to him, but anything he can do to put off balance their top targets is worth it.

The chancellor - a new chancellor, they’d made sure of that, another thing leading to that Venatori anger - bangs his gavel to bring the senate to order. Begins to close the session as it’s obviously a lost cause to continue and Dorian is free to take a moment while everyone is listening to the droning that is all that pomp and circumstance, and turns to Evelyn instead.

She is beaming at him, all pretense of aloofness, her normal disguise here, gone. There is so much pride in her face, for him, at him, that it shakes him. It was one thing for her to grin at him, proud of his latest jibe, his latest spell, back in Skyhold. But here, in the place he’s desired and feared to be for so long, it’s almost foreign. Mae supports him and cares for him, but the blinding faith Evelyn has in him sometimes ... well, he hasn’t felt anything like it in his homeland since Felix was by his side.

He know some Magisters think that the way they move together is because they are together. More fools them. They do not know the synergy one gains from being back to back, staffs crossed, magic rolling across both of you as you stare down an army. Nothing they have thrown at them yet has been able to compete with the connection they’d gained on the road, in blood. Something the majority of these mages, lazy and hidden in their capital, know nothing about. There's no one he'd more trust at his back, now and forever.

But that's enough introspection for one day. Dorian twists the tip of his mustache as he winks at her, and she laughs out loud (in the Magisterium, another crime against proprietary adding to his own), even as she rises to join him.

“Well done” murmurs Mae as she comes up beside them. “I think we’ve rattled the cages well enough for one night.”

“For one night, perhaps” Evelyn retorts, arm settling back into his elbow, a so accustomed weight by now. “But there’s always tomorrow.”

“Yes” Dorian responds. “There is always tomorrow.”


	5. Duel

The problem with Tevinter is that everything - deception, romance, murder, lust - all of it has to be hidden behind yet another party. The Dorian who enjoyed the parties has been long gone - he’d rather be off working on the latest part of their plans, whether it be the one to turn Tevinter on its head (going well, if he does say so himself) or the one to thwart Solas (going a bit slower, but still progressing).

At least this party isn’t being served by slaves, though. This is a party held by the Magister that is their latest coup, someone who was not technically part of the Lucerni yet, but who agreed with many of their causes, and is becoming an ally. They’re making headway, from up and coming heirs like himself, to the quiet country cousins who hadn’t felt like they could speak up before, to even those who have been less powerful and want to use this party as a way to get it - less favourable than the first groups true, but leverage they can use none the less.

In Magister Alonysis’s case, Dorian privately thinks there’s a good chance that there’s either a lover or half-sibling involved, unfortunately. But at least it’s made a change here for the better.

Thankfully he doesn’t have to worry about them sending anyone to try and hit on him and getting him in a compromising situation anymore. They'd stopped that after the third time Evelyn had humiliated them. What he has to deal with is finally a little more overt, which is probably why he's slightly on edge right now.

Though that could be because of the angry Venatori wannabe that’s staring him down.

“Why Paulus you are looking marvellous today. Such a lovely cut to that robe.” Dorian’s attempt to deflect with standard small talk is skewed by the venom in his tone.

“Challenge” Paulus repeats. “I issue challenge to you, Magister Pavus. Unless you’re going to cower behind your bitch wife.”

Evelyn’s grin matches his in viciousness. She’s more comfortable now, with the gloves off. “Oh please. Dorian is far better at these kind of things than I am. And he is such a pleasure to watch.”

“I’ll take his head” Paulus blusters, and Dorian rolls his eyes, intentionally overtly.

“I’ll just take your tailor. Well, no. At least 10 of your slaves, turned over to me. “ He wants to say ‘all’ but there’s a difference he knows in this man’s mind between ‘giving in to the Lucerni’ vs. ‘wagering with things he doesn’t value nearly enough’. Paulus has stumbled into the type of mistake they’ve been looking for, so he’s not going to risk it, no matter how much he wants to.

“What do I get in trade?”

“The pleasure of saying you defeated me” the arch of Dorian’s eyebrow is enjoyably dramatic.

“How about a night with your wife, since she obviously wouldn’t truly interest you” the man smarms, and Dorian feels his rage flare up but before it can explode, he’s interrupted.

“Done” responds Evelyn, with a smirk. “Witnessed?”

Two others chime in, and the deal is done.

“Though you really should have specified what we’d be doing for the night, and that it shouldn’t involve you losing any limbs” she continues, lazily sipping from her glass, and Dorian can’t help the laugh that bubbles from him, spilling over like the rage didn’t.

“Luckily for you, you won’t win, so that won’t be your concern” he adds smoothly, looking down his nose.

They move down to the gardens. Nearly all the gardens in proper Tevinter manors have a spot for magic. A spot that could, potentially, be used for a duel.

Alonysis is anxious though. Dorian highly doubts it’s ever been used for such purposes in his lifetime. “Are you sure you shouldn’t be doing this?” he hears the man hiss to his wife, and he’d almost be offended if she wasn’t well … The Inquisitor.

“Of course not” she laughs, and while Alonysis was trying to be quiet, subtle, her response is intentionally not, ringing out over the crowd as Dorian and Paulus proceed alone to the middle of the courtyard. “As I said, Dorian is far better at this then I am.“

There's conviction in her words, and he knows she believes every one, knows she’d beat him in a knock down dirty fight but not in a traditional duel. There’s a warning in those words for his opponents, for those willing to listen, and he hears the murmurs as her words hit. 

Not that Paulus listens, immediately starting the duel without waiting for their host as is proper. Rude and dismissive, something that surely will lose him almost as much points with the old timers that like their ceremony as losing to Dorian.

Paulus is an ice mage but Dorian has been taught how those tricks work by a greater ice mage than he ever will be. “Look at him darling” he can almost hear her in his ear, his dear lady disdain. “What a fool.” He can almost feel Vivienne’s hands on his as he counters as she had taught him, using a technique that no 'pure Tevinter' would try.

But then, pure Tevinters, at least nowadays, had never had to fight corrupted giants while freezing their asses off following their friend into hell. There are so many tricks he learned in the south, out of desperation. Here, he uses enough of them to throw the fool off balance, capping it off with a horror from his true specialization, just in case anyone forgot Dorian Pavus dealt in death. Dorian is triumphant before Paulus, with no experience outside of Minrathous - outside of these play duels - even has a chance to truly put up a fight. The murmurs that Evelyn's words had started only get louder.

"Rushing it, weren't you?" Evelyn asks as she strides up to beside him, ignoring Paulus's prone form as she reaches for his hand, grounds the energy that still rushes through his veins.

"Well, we hadn't even gotten to try the hors d'oeuvres yet" Dorian points out, and her laugh is finally enough to take the last of the edge off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, the ham could taste like despair, and how could he miss THAT.
> 
> (and yes, my dear lady disdain is from Shakespeare, but it's such a good term)


	6. Freedom

It had taken awhile to get things sorted, even with witnesses, even with a public humiliation - perhaps maybe because of the public humiliation. Paulus unsurprisingly did not want to admit defeat, but the Magisterium takes the tradition of the duel seriously. 

It’s the reason they’d planned it that way, goaded the other man to make the challenger. There are traditions, as old as the Magisterium, traditions every young Altus is taught from their earliest days of mage training. Duels are common in the circles, and many a Magister has made his reputation just by the strength of him on a dueling floor. Paulus had wanted to be that type of Magister, and because of this would be feeling the sting of that for awhile.

Well, that and the sting of looking much less impressive in much less well made outfits. Win win.

The properties clerk is a very bored looking Soporati. If he thinks Dorian is crazy being here, breaking the slavery contracts on slaves he just attained, he won’t say anything. Instead he just carefully draws up the paperwork that will make all of those standing behind him free.

Evelyn moves amongst them, voice a quiet murmur. The offering of options, support, a familiar patter by now as they’ve slowly worked their way through deals and trades and subterfuge to free handful after handful of slave, to change this part of Tevinter. Not just to help thwart Solas, but because it’s only right. He can’t see him resting until this is no longer a thing in his country, to where he can always speak of Tevinter with pride.

Speaking of righting wrongs, he turns to the clerk again. “You also handle bounties, correct?”

The man eyes him warily. “If it was any other Magister I wouldn’t ask, but you’re not running down criminals in your spare time now?”

Evelyn’s laugh at that peals out merrily as she joins him at the counter. “No. Well, not right now at least”. The clerk does not seem reassured by that.

Dorian interrupts before he can ask exactly what she meant. “No, I’d like to purchase one out, cancel it. I am told that’s possible.”

“For Magisters, yes.” The clerk allows. “Though it’s frowned on, and’ll cost you a mint. Name?”

“Cremisius Aclassi”. Dorian ignores the noise from the former slave behind him as the Soporati disappears to find the right file. 

“You should pay” he whispers to Evelyn while they wait. “It would scandalize him even more.”

“And miss out on Krem drinking you under the table in thanks? Never.” She responds, and he laughs.

Paperwork complete, they are finally ready. Half of the former slaves have chosen to leave, with their blessing and funding, small purses dispersed with the, paperwork that should keep them from being harassed, travel organized for those not wishing to - or not safe to - remain in Tevinter. The other half wish to stay as paid employees within a Lucerni household, with the majority of them being introduced to their new employers right now and departing to a new, better life. If they change their minds later, they can always leave, and he knows some of them don't believe that yet but he hopes with all his heart it will hit them soon.

Two of the remaining are to stay in his household. First, the oh so talented human tailor who Dorian will definitely be keeping safe. It may mean he'll be called called a peacock yet again, but he happily anticipates the latest designs he may try, discussing quietly with the man as the others disperse.

The second, who Evelyn is still soothing, is an elf that has admittedly to being contacted by one of Solas's agents. Perhaps a risk, but Evelyn is patient, and kind, and her earnest nature had turned Dorian’s heart long ago. He’d take one of her against a wolf no longer in sheep’s clothing any day.

He hopes the girl she’s taking on will see what he sees, what keeps him going even when his thoughts turn dark and he worries that what they’re doing will never be enough. Not to stop Solas, but more importantly to him not to save his country. Whenever he feels himself going down that path, there she is at his side, with the determination and desire to help everyone that led her from prisoner to leader, from Herald to Inquisitor.

That led her here, her arm in his. Slaves freed, a friend protected, and his heart lightened by the true, obvious proof of the changes they can cause. The difference they can make.


	7. Alone

The sound of a wagon driving up to his front gate has Dorian hurrying to greet them. He would not normally be in charge of receiving a delivery, but this one they’ve been fretting about since it hit the Tevinter border.

His eyes flick over the few mercs on horseback, some of them vaguely familiar from his days in Skyhold, from his days on the road with the Chargers. But then he sees the rider he’s waiting for coming up from where he’s been rear guard on the wagon, vaulting down with a grace Dorians starting to ache from too many hours sitting in a damn council hall bones envy. Relief courses through him. “No problems at the border then?”

“Should have seen their faces when they found the bounty was cancelled” Krem booms, hand gripping tightly at Dorians shoulder as they embrace. Krem had started as just the ‘other Tevinter’, but they’d became friends before long, bonding over reminiscing of a country they both loved and hated in equal measure, and about the Qunari that changed both their lives.

Krem’s smile is as warm for Dorian as he remembers, but his attention is obviously distracted as his fingers trail down Dorians sleeve.

“Fine work, isn’t it” Dorian comments, and he can’t help the smile he gives in return, the emotion in his voice slightly too much for the reputation he tries to preserve. “Perhaps you should meet my tailor?”

Because the man himself is already approaching as he’s speaking, obviously warned by Evelyn, and the look on Krem’s face as he turns, as he embraces his father - well, all the work they had done to set off Paulus had been worth it before, but it was ten times worth it in this moment. He’d face a dozen duels for the chance to make this difference to a man as worthy as Krem was.

The impact they’ve made to slavery over the past couple of years is impressive, and this is only one example, but oh it’s a powerful one, and he’s caught for a moment in watching, ignoring the stinging in his eyes, ignoring the tinge of wistfulness at such a reunion between father and son, paying little attention to the rest of the men as they lead the wagon in.

“Not bad Dorian” rumbles a surprisingly familiar voice beside him, and he turns his head to look at the bedraggled looking merc beside him before he freezes. Takes a double take. And then laughs. Laughs so hard he’s crying for another reason. Because the unremarkable looking man who’d been driving the wagon, with his shaved head bowed and heavy beard a mess, is a lot more recognizable and much more remarkable once he straightens to his full height and looks Dorian dead in the eyes.

“Your curls!” he exclaims through another laugh, unable to stop himself at his shock at seeing his friend so, and Cullen’s grimace as he runs his hand over his scalp is priceless. He would bet money Krem was responsible for this disguise, the mismatched armor, the removal of the lion’s famous mane. That is a story he most definitely has to get out of him, once they proceed to the drinking under the table part.

The disguise had worked well on him until Cullen had ruined it, but the gasp he hears as she walks into the courtyard tells him that Evelyn is not so easily fooled, as the glass in her hand tumbles to the ground in shock. The look on Cullen’s face is painful to watch in its joy as she runs at him, everything else forgotten.

And here in the privacy afforded by this inner courtyard, their embrace - his best friend with her true husband - makes him realize the truth of what he just can’t have, not if he wants to keep working for this cause, this unseen war.

Because It’s not like his Amatus is quite so easy to disguise. 

All his joy turns to ash in a moment, and in the presence of the happy reunions, he retreats. As for a moment, he hates everything so much he can barely breathe with the unfairness of it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean technically the inquisitor is ‘married’ twice ... though is it really bigamy if the Divine forges your paperwork the second time?


	8. Epilogue

He’s alone with his sorrow until he isn’t. She crawls into his bed, arms wrapping around him, careful and considerate in a way he knows few see in the ‘dangerous inquisitor’. Just as he knows she sees him as many others don’t, not the proud peacock, but the lonely man that hides underneath.

They may not be the kind of partners they pretend to be, but she has been his dearest friend, his best friend for so long now. Like a part of his soul he can’t live without. It’s not her fault that the part of his heart he is struggling to live without isn’t here. Not really.

“I’m sorry, dear one” she whispers in his ear. “It’s hardly fair.”

“It’ll be worth it” he responds, voice choked, a reminder to her or to himself he can’t tell. “We’ll be together before long.”

“I promise you that” she swears. “And when have you known me to break a promise?”

(She doesn’t)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me on this! 
> 
> If you liked it & are interested in more, I am working on a sequel (well, is it a sequel when the timelines overlap?) from the Inquisitor's POV, though that one is taking a little longer (probably because I am still working out some of my backstory/context for the inquisitor in these stories, which I am putting up pieces of roughly in the other active DA story I have right now)


End file.
